


not as easy as it looks on TV

by pashenka



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Cameron is protective, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, Nightmares, Post Tritter but otherwise has no time basis in series, Wilson is allergic to pineapples, hilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pashenka/pseuds/pashenka
Summary: hi I haven't written anything since I was in high school, but I was binge watching House and couldn't stop myself. Quarantine hath taken another soul.➽───────────────❥Summary:House and Wilson share an intimate moment, the likes of which Wilson had never seen before in their three year relationship. It drives Wilson to realize he wants to marry House, but of course it's never that easy, is it?
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson, Lisa Cuddy & James Wilson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 146





	1. discovery

Wilson was pacing the floor. He had locked himself in his office, even pinned a blanket scarf over the glass patio door. Every few laps around his desk he would stop and stare blankly at the tartan design on the scarf as his mouth hung open dumbly, before resuming his pacing. He wrung his hands together, surprising himself with how sweaty his palms were.  
Finally, he plopped down into his office chair with a heavy sigh. He wiped his hands on his navy dress slacks and stretched his arms in front of him. There was a hollow, urgent feeling of anxiety inside him that made it hard to breathe. 

With any problem he had, Wilson would always go to House first. Let House berate and mock him, belittle his predicament because ultimately House would end up helping Wilson one way or another. It took Wilson years to fully understand how House worked. In the beginning, House’s cold eyes and scathing words would make Wilson feel like crying. Now petty insults meant nothing because Wilson understood that that was just how House communicated.  
When Wilson and House started dating, Wilson recognized that this also translated into how House was romantically. Wilson never expected House to change, Wilson never even wished for him to. Still, it took some getting used to again. House didn’t often say “I love you”s. His way of saying that was to call Wilson an idiot, but in a specific tone of voice he only saved for Wilson. The older doctor had the emotional range of a rock, but he still found ways to show Wilson that what they have is genuine. 

As much as Wilson would have loved to turn to his snarky boyfriend, he couldn’t. Because said snarky boyfriend was the problem.

➽───────────────❥

The two have been dating for three years, four months, and 19 days now. Any office bets for how long their relationship would last were long forgotten. Wilson never truly forgave Cuddy for betting that their relationship would last only five months, Cuddy never forgave Chase for telling Wilson her bet.  
After his last marriage ended in catastrophe, Wilson had sworn he would never remarry. However, he had made that promise before any of this had happened, before he knew any life with House was possible. Last night, something shifted in Wilson. 

Wilson always prided himself as an observant person, and since the beginning of their romantic relationship Wilson drank in every detail of House he could get. The way his hips dip, the variances in his limp between morning and night, the fact that his right arm tends to twitch as he falls asleep. House prefers to use his cane as little as possible when at home, unless it was a high pain day. Whenever Wilson cooked, he took careful mental notes on how House liked the food. House prefers to be warm over being cold. He isn’t fond of being hugged from behind, especially when he isn’t expecting it. House won’t admit it but he prefers his morning coffee to have more cream than coffee. House kicks off his socks in his sleep. When House feels nauseous, he feels best lying on his bathroom tile. When House wants to deflect, he either talks about his leg pain or initiates sex. Whenever Wilson mentions House’s father, tendons in House’s neck tense. When House is in deep thought, he likes to run his tongue along one of his canines. 

Last night, House was the same as he always was. He was gruff, grumpy, and eager to climb into bed after downing a beer. Wilson nudged him out of bed with his foot, telling House he can’t come to bed until he washes that smell off his breath. House got up with an immature huff but walked out of the room anyways. Wilson listened to his footsteps, a step then a stomp. Step then stomp. He heard the bathroom sink running and toothbrush sounds followed. Step, stomp, step, stomp. Finally House entered, and shut the door behind him. 

“Thank youuu,” Wilson said in a sweet tone. 

House rolled himself under the covers next to Wilson with another huff. 

“I only did it so we could do some unspeakable things before we sleep tonight,” House retorted. “I’ve been thinking. I wanna do something freaky tonight Jimmy. How does chocolate syrup and an electric prod sound?”  
Wilson knew he didn’t actually mean it as House often did this to avoid taking credit for doing nice things. Just like how he used to talk about Cuddy’s underwear or bra every day in the office. Oh, how that used to kill Wilson inside. 

“Is my breath good enough for you mommy?” House asked, before he leaned closer and breathed in Wilson’s face with an open mouth.

Wilson scrunched his nose and turned away. He was acting disgusted, because House actually did smell minty fresh. He laughed a little and the two lay down together, assuming their usual position. Wilson reached over and turned off the light, and shimmied down until he was lying flat on his back. House threw his bad leg over Wilson and wrapped an arm around his torso before rubbing his face into a comfortable space on Wilson’s shoulder. Wilson snaked his arm into the space between House’s head and shoulder so it wouldn’t lose blood flow and hurt during the night. He turned his head so his cheek fell to rest on House’s hair. His other hand reached up and lay comfortably on House’s knee. 

Wilson inhaled, a deep sense of content spreading through his sore limbs as he took in the smell of House’s hair. Wilson could tell it had been a few days since he had showered, but the faint smell of sweat didn’t bother him. He planted a soft kiss on House’s head.  
Wilson often did this, staying awake just so he could appreciate House sleeping. Even after being together so long, feeling the warmth and steady breath of House next to him made his chest hurt with happiness. _House is here. House is alive. Safe. He is in my arms. House loves me._  
He lay in the dark as House’s breath evened, his eyes staring into nothingness. The previous day flashed through his head, Wilson thinking about his patients and staff. What he would have to do the next day, the next week. Dry cleaners? No, he had just gone. Maybe make a run down to the bank, make a payment on his car loan. Yes, then get a car wash! And while he’s at it, he should clean out all of the receipts and old files House insists upon leaving in the car.

Before he knew it, Wilson too was drifting asleep. He planted one last kiss on House’s head and let the darkness take him.

➽───────────────❥

It was three in the morning when Wilson was kicked awake. Half-conscious, he was about to reprimand House before he noticed House was convulsing. This snapped him to sharp attention, and his first thought was that House was seizing. Wilson shoved the nightstand away from the bed so House couldn’t accidentally hit it, and it skidded a few feet away before Wilson turned himself back to House. 

He wasn’t having a seizure, but a nightmare. 

His body was covered in a cold sweat, and Wilson leapt out of bed to turn the light on and returned to kneel on the bed over House. House’s face was contorted into a half snarl, tears streaming down his face. His teeth were shut tight and grinding against each other, his hands wrapped tight around his head as if he were protecting himself from an invisible attacker. This was something Wilson had never seen before, and he was unsure of how to proceed.  
If he woke him up, House would retreat from him like a wounded dog and probably isolate himself on the couch for the night, and probably act like nothing happened come morning. House still had too many issues with being vulnerable in front of Wilson, even at this point in their relationship. But seeing House like this, in such obvious pain and agony that Wilson could easily stop… It would be worth sleeping in the bed alone for the night. House let out a guttural whine in the back of his throat and that made Wilson’s decision final.

“House,” Wilson said, half-hushed. “House!” He said louder, turning House onto his back. He shook the man’s shoulders a few times, before House’s eyes wrenched open and he jerked upright. His breathing was labored, and his eyes darted around the room wildly to gather his surroundings. His eyes then locked on Wilson’s, and multiple emotions flew across his face. Fear, shame, embarrassment. Wilson could still tell he wasn’t fully awake, but he soon would be.

Wilson braced himself for the tantrum or snarky comment. He expected House to do what House does, put his mask on. For his face muscles to relax before his eyebrows would furrow, and he would walk away from Wilson. Like he usually does.  
Wilson turned away, already prepared to exit the room at House’s demand, to be yelled at. He slipped one leg off the bed and House made a noise of protest which made Wilson look back.

Instead of contempt on House’s face, his face had crumpled. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands and sobbed. Wilson was frozen in shock for a moment, before he quickly stood. He got up and turned the light off, he felt a hand gripped onto his shirt so quickly and tight that it jerked the collar, choking him a little. He turned back towards House’s figure in the darkness. For a moment they stayed like that, silent besides House’s panting and quiet sobs. Wilson could tell just by listening House was fighting himself to stop crying.

“No.” House choked out. “Wils…nnn”

Wilson’s eyebrows raised, this was all new territory for him. “I’m not-” 

“Stay. With me. Please.” 

The vulnerability in House’s voice sent a chill down Wilson’s spine, but he crawled back into bed next to House. He pulled the man onto his chest, House was shivering. Wilson could feel House’s ribs jerking as his breath heaved and he occasionally hiccuped. Wilson couldn’t think of anything to say. He’s had to tell dozens of people and their families of terminal cancer. He’s had breakups, hell, even when Tritter was interrogating him Wilson somewhat knew what to say.  
He knew House wasn’t as resilient as he liked to act. But never, not in the three years of dating or the even longer friendship, had Wilson seen House so willingly vulnerable. All he could do was wrap his arms tight around House, one hand gently cradling House’s head.

“Of course. I was never going to leave. I’m here.” He stroked his hand down House’s back, the man’s body still trembling. “I’m here,” Wilson repeated softly, a few more times. He gently rocked the two of them side to side to try and soothe House. 

After a few minutes, it seemed that House had passed out. Wilson himself fell back asleep a few minutes later. 

➽───────────────❥

In the morning, Wilson woke up alone. It was odd, since usually Wilson was the one who woke up early. As soon as the memory of last night hit him however, he realized that House was going to avoid him. 

Wilson stretched his back, aching from the awkward position he fell asleep in. He let out a huge sigh and looked around House’s room as he woke himself up. After a few minutes he worked up the energy to get out of bed and get ready for work. He couldn’t hear House in their apartment, but could tell somehow that he was there. Wilson sat down on their bed to pull up his socks and lace his shoes, and House appeared in the doorframe.

“C’mon slowpoke, Cuddy paged me. Got a new case.” House said, pointing his cane at Wilson like it was a threat. 

Wilson just stared blankly at House, eyes flicking to every detail on House’s face. 

“My eyes are down here,” House said, pointing to his crotch. 

Wilson rolled his eyes and looked back down at his shoes for a moment before he got up and followed House out to his car. 

➽───────────────❥

The drive was silent, but Wilson’s mind was racing. House had been vulnerable with him last night. Genuinely vulnerable. The last time Wilson had seen even a glimpse of that in House was the first time House said the “L” word. Well, it was less vulnerable and more like it looked like House was going to vomit around his own words. Still… it made Wilson’s chest clench.  
In a small, perverse way though… thinking over the night’s events made Wilson feel special. Needed, Wanted, Safe. For the first time, House had been hurt and asked Wilson for comfort. Sure, House has depended on Wilson before. For money, personal gain, legal defense. Never outright comfort. It had Wilson feeling breathless and warm inside.  
House was being quiet… too quiet. Maybe he was contemplating last night too. Wilson snuck a glance at a red light and was disappointed to see his boyfriend was asleep with his seat reclined. Oh well, at least he was getting his rest. 

They went their separate ways when they reached their offices. House was soon whisked away by Cuddy, who had lied about having a case for House and instead strong armed him into clinic duty. Upon entering his own office, Wilson stood over his desk and discovered that today was going to be a very slow day. Perfect, no work to distract him from the weird feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. 

“Stay with me, please” House had asked. As if Wilson could or ever would say no to House. 

Even as friends, Wilson knew he would be by House’s side until the very end. Now as partners, this was even more solidified. Wilson was always going to be there for him, even if House was going to test him over and over until he died, even if House was too stubborn to ever accept it. Wilson wanted to be with House, share every moment he could with him, touch him, hold him, live with him, marry-

Wait. What? 

Wilson stumbled back. Did he really just think that?

House’s voice came into his head. “Dum, Dum, Dee-Dum, you're so fucking dumb.” 

An image of House in a white dress flashed in front of his eyes and Wilson swatted at the air, trying to get the image away. No, that’s ridiculous.

...Isn’t it? Well yeah, at least the dress part is. The rest of it made too much sense to Wilson.

“Shit.” Wilson said under his breath.

He sat in his chair and reclined a little. He shut his eyes. He imagined looking at House, who would be looking as bored and uncaring as he could. He looked up, and could see a chuppah. Looking back down, he watched House slip a ring onto Wilson’s finger. It was plain gold, but House twisted it so Wilson could make out an engraving. H&W, how fitting.  
Holding each other’s hands so gently, but Wilson would squeeze House’s hand at random just from sheer nerves. Kissing House in front of a crowd of their colleagues and friends. Well, Wilson’s friends. Cutting a cake. House would definitely take a slice and shove it into Wilson’s face. Wilson would do the same, earning a hit on the shin from House’s cane. 

Wilson opened his eyes back up, blinking to readjust to the light. This was all fantasy right? No. The more Wilson thought about it, the more certain he was. House was nothing like his ex-wives. House was everything to Wilson. Marrying House seemed as natural as anything else, a logical progression in his mind.  
He stood, and began to pace.

There’s no way House would see it like that though. To House, marriage is an old fashioned institution that should die with his parents, probably. Wilson and House had never discussed marriage before, the only time it was ever mentioned was when House was belittling Wilson’s previous ones. Obviously, all of those conversations had been dripping with disdain.  
But maybe, Wilson thought as he turned on his heel, maybe I could convince him with the logical benefits. Tax deduction, IRA benefits… even legal decision making will be easier for them to access as husbands.

Husbands. Wilson let the word wash over him. He pictured himself calling House his husband. He wanted it suddenly more than he had ever wanted anything in the world.

Wilson heard commotion down the hall, meaning House was back. There was no way Wilson could hide his revelation from House for long. He would sniff it out immediately and weasel the truth out of him. In a panic, he covered his windows and locked his doors.  
He then resumed pacing.

Wilson could never turn to Cameron or Chase to talk to. As much as he loved the two, he knew that Cameron was a big blabbermouth, and anything told to Chase would soon be told to Cameron. Foreman? No. Foreman may respect House, but he doesn’t like him. Suggesting marrying the boss he hates would probably just lead to Foreman reminding Wilson how bad of a person House is, as if Wilson didn’t already know. 

Cuddy. Of course. Wilson sent her a quick message to make sure she was in her office. Once he was certain she was, Wilson peeked through his blinds. No House in sight. Probably means now he actually does have a case, and he’s going over differentials. Perfect time to sneak out. Wilson quickly hopped out his door and gently shut it, careful not to make noise. He walked on light feet in the opposite direction of House’s office, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure House wasn’t following him. He was almost there. The far elevator doors were just within sight, Wilson looked behind himself one last time and ended up walking straight into House himself. 

Wilson caught House before the man could topple over. 

“Hey! Cripple walking here.” House exclaimed, looking fake hurt. He had the smallest pout on his face. “Where are you going?” 

“Uh..” Wilson stammered, causing House to roll his eyes.

“Don’t give me those big dumb brown puppy eyes Wilson.”

Wilson cocked his head to the side. “Did you just compliment me?”

House stared at Wilson, incredulous. “If today is opposite day, yeah. Seriously, where the hell are you going?” He looked Wilson up and down, analysing him. Wilson was no stranger to House’s stares of scrutiny but this time it was making him nervous sweat.

Wilson spread his hands and shrugged. “I’m… at work? Can’t I see my patients?”

“You could, if you weren’t walking away from your one patient you currently have, who is down the hall from my office.” House pointed behind Wilson. “That way.” He raised his eyebrows in a way Wilson found both cute and aggravating. This was House’s ‘I call bullshit and you know I’m right’ look. 

“You read my files again?” Wilson blurted, sounding more exasperated than he meant to.

House held up an accusatory finger. “Don’t act so surprised and DO NOT deflect. That’s my thing. Get your own-” House cut off when his pager went off. The amused gleam in House’s eye faded and he pursed his lips. He looked back up at Wilson. “This isn’t over.”

House moved to walk past Wilson, but Wilson caught him by the back of the shirt and kissed his cheek before letting him go.

House acted embarrassed, quickly wiping his cheek clean with his sleeve. “Save it for the chains and whips later, Jimmy.” House called down the hall, walking as briskly as he could.

A few nurses stared at Wilson, obviously some of the newer hires. The more seasoned staff barely raised an eyebrow at House’s remarks any longer. Wilson awkwardly waved at them, before continuing on to the elevators. So much for being sneaky.

➽───────────────❥

Finally, Wilson burst into Cuddy’s office. Cuddy was used to House barging into her space but Wilson was a rare sight, so she quickly ended her phone call she was having. 

“Who was that?” Wilson asked, gesturing to the phone.

Cuddy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just a Dean of Medicine over in New York. She wanted to schedule a conference here. I just told her why that was a horrible idea.” 

“Oh, no idea why that might be. Not enough space? Too far out of the way?” Wilson hoped his sarcasm was obvious.

Cuddy gave him an amused, but pointed look. “You know why. You're dating the reason.”

“Ah, yes. Speaking of House….” Wilson trailed off, suddenly very interested in studying the pattern of Cuddy’s carpet. He hadn’t really thought about what to say, he had just been so focused on just getting to Cuddy’s office. 

He suddenly looked up, and closed all of the blinds in Cuddy’s office. 

“Do you think there could be any hidden cameras or mics in here?” Wilson asked in a hushed tone.

Cuddy leaned in. “Not in a million years. I have security cameras of my own in here to make sure House doesn’t pull that.” Cuddy then blinked, and looked as if she had just had a dark realization. “Oh God. You aren’t thinking about breaking up with him are you?” She didn’t give him time to reply. She stood, and started pacing behind her desk. “I knew this was going to happen, I should never have let you- You deserve- I’ll have to move one of your offices- well no, who am I kidding, you will have to move offices since House is so stubborn- Oh God his work ethic? His Vicodin addiction? Christ Wilson I support you but this is going to really suck-”

Wilson held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not dumping him!”

Cuddy had her hands tangled in her hair when she stood upright, surprised. She dropped her hands to her sides. “So you're… not breaking up? Or did he dump you?”

“No, no one is dumping anyone!! Cuddy, I need your advice.”

Cuddy let out a big sigh of relief as she sat back down in her chair, readjusted her blouse, and fixed her hair. She then gestured for Wilson to sit in the chair in front of her. “What is it then?”

“I…” In truth, Wilson was having a hard time saying it. Saying it out loud, to another person… that would make it all real. Was he willing to jeopardize his relationship with House because of this? There was a sinking anxiety that asking House to marry him would be the breaking point. House would be officially sick of all this romantic bullshit, or worse… House never planned to stay with Wilson indefinitely in the first place. It was a familiar anxiety, one that had loomed over Wilson in the first few months of their romantic relationship. House had dragged his feet about discussions of moving in together for months. At any time, it felt like House was going to leave for good. One wrong move, if Wilson pushed the boundaries too far, asked for too much… all of this could fall apart. No, he wanted to do this. Wilson took a deep breath. “I want… I am going to ask House to marry me.” 

Cuddy stared. And stared. And stared. Her mouth hung open like a fish, her eyes were wide. Wilson could tell that his blood pressure was skyrocketing. He could also feel his heart beating in his chest.  
Cuddy finally blinked like she was a robot that just rebooted. She sighed and then breathed in to speak, only to be interrupted by rough tapping on the glass door to her office. Wilson and Cuddy looked at each other with wide eyes, and Wilson held a finger to his lips. Cuddy gave a small nod, before House burst in. 

“Oh, it’s you,” House said, looking at Wilson before he turned his attention to Cuddy. “I only knocked because I was hoping you were having hot greasy sex with that new pediatrics nurse, Allison something or other. I don’t want to discourage that kind of activity. Do not have enough innuendos to describe her-” Wilson cleared his throat and House paused, looked at Wilson like he had just arrived. “Oh, sorry, forgot you were here. Anyways. Cuddy, I would like to-”

“Yeah yeah, just do it House.” Cuddy said, waving him off.

The cheeky grin that had been growing on House’s face dropped. 

“What? I thought that would make you happy.” Cuddy retorted, glancing at Wilson.

“Not that easily. What’s going on.” House said, looking at Wilson himself before focusing on Cuddy again. He tapped his cane on the ground like he tended to when the gears in his head were grinding.

“Nothing! Just get out of my office and go save your patient’s life.”

“Are ya sure? Because it's definitely illegal. And cruel. Inhumane, even. You should have heard Cameron bitching at me about it on the elevator earlier I could barely even enjoy looking at her bra straps today-”

“Get out, House. Now, or I’ll take my permission back.” 

“Oooh, sorry, no take-backsies.” House sent one last suspecting glare at Wilson before he hobbled out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him.

The room fell into silence again. A small personal fan Cuddy had placed on her desk was the only noise. This time, neither one could look at each other. Cuddy was in deep thought somewhere else, Wilson was counting the amount of circles on her carpet. 

Cuddy was the first to break the silence. “So… How are you going to do this?”

Wilson shrugged lamely. “Kinda what I was hoping to ask your advice on.”

His response made Cuddy break out laughing. Seeing his confusion, Cuddy said, “Okay, two things. One, I’m not married. Two, if anyone in this entire hospital- possibly the world- knows House well enough to give advice about him, it would be you!”

Unfortunately, he knew she was right.

➽───────────────❥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter! The fic is finished except for the epilogue, not to worry. If you have the time a comment would mean the world to me. I'm fully aware I'm a decade too late for this fandom I'm just lonely and gay. Quarantine has done this to me. 
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> Also I'm sorry if I'm writing the characters too ooc,, I'm out of practice and I'm not good at writing complex characters like House.


	2. complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYYY heads up this chapter is going to IMMEDIATELY dive into NSFW. It stops being explicit at the sentence "Mind getting me a napkin?"  
> Also I have never made smut before so please don't yell at me if it sucks or has no spark!! 
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> I also do want to warn there is a very brief mention of suicide/suicidal thoughts, please be aware! It is only mentioned once and after is completely forgotten.

Wilson walked back up to his office, lost in thought. How could he propose in a way that made sense to House? Write a letter? Make a powerpoint, titled ‘Top 10 Reasons To Marry Wilson’? Or could he try to get away with the classic down on one knee bit? Definitely not in public. House would gleefully take that opportunity to publicly humiliate him.  
Wilson walked out of the elevator onto his floor and found his scarf was tied in a knot around his door handle. Upon entering his office he found House sitting in his chair, his legs kicked up onto the desk. Wilson shut the door behind himself. For a moment, House pretended that he had not noticed Wilson entering. He was holding one of the knick knacks that Wilson kept on his desk, twiddling it between his fingers. None of the lights were on, just the remaining light of the evening coming through Wilson’s windows. It cast the room in shades of blue, and House looked older than he actually was in the light. Still, he looked as handsome as ever. 

Wilson opened his mouth to talk, but House held up a finger. “You are not as sneaky as you think you are.” 

Brown eyes met blue, and Wilson felt the color drain out of his face. House stood and took slow, lingering steps towards Wilson with a deliberate air. Wilson stepped back for fear House might be able to sense his thoughts. House backed Wilson up against the door. Wilson was wide eyed and could hear how loudly he was breathing. 

“I’m- I’m- I’m… not? I’m not trying to be sneaky-” Wilson said but House held up a finger to shush him, his gaze intense. House’s hand dropped, and Wilson could hear House locking the office door. 

“Wilson, I know you are not as stupid as you may like others to believe. You wore these pants on purpose today, didn’t you?” His tone was playfully admonishing, no hint of venom in his voice.

Oh. _Oh._ Wilson sighed as he felt House’s hand now on his thigh, dragging his nails up. The hand travelled to the back of Wilson’s thigh, and up to his ass where House promptly squeezed. House leaned in, his stubble lightly scratching at Wilson’s cheek as he bent to give a small kiss on Wilson’s neck. They both knew it was his weakest spot. Even just the slight brush of lips made him gasp, and the first chaste kiss was followed by a sharp bite that was too strong, even for House. Wilson yelped, but still felt the stimulation go straight where it was supposed to. House lifted his head so he could lean in and kiss Wilson, using his hand to grip Wilson’s hips and pull him flush against his own body. This drew another gasp from Wilson upon feeling how hard House was, and House took the opportunity to dive his tongue into Wilson’s mouth. 

“But your case?” Wilson asked, breaking the kiss, breathless.

“Sent Cameron perform the tests. Serves her right for being so morally righteous. Jimmy, I must say your pillow talk has significantly gone down in quality over the years-”

To shut him up, Wilson leaned up and kissed House again. Wilson reached a hand up to cup the back of House’s head, holding him in that kiss. It was desperate and passionate as if they were college kids in a dorm and not professional doctors at work. Wilson used his other hand to hold House’s hips so he could start grinding them against each other. House couldn’t help but moan into Wilson’s open mouth. A dull thud fell on deaf ears as House dropped his cane to grip the other side of Wilson’s hips. House lifted his bad leg up so they could slot themselves even closer together, Wilson’s hand holding his leg below the knee for support.  
They continued like that, all desperate gasps and gropes until they heard two nurses talking very closely to Wilson’s door. They made an awkward shuffle, never truly breaking the kiss, over to Wilson’s couch. There House sat with a huff, and pulled Wilson on top to straddle him. 

“Off,” House commanded between kisses, trying but failing to remove Wilson’s button down shirt. Wilson laughed at House’s impatience, but complied. 

As every button was undone, House craned his neck to kiss lower and lower. It started at his neck, licking the still fresh teeth marks. Wilson sucked in air through gritted teeth, he loved this. House dipped lower still, and turned his head to the side to access a nipple. A subtle nibble of teeth that was then replaced with a warm wet tongue. This caused Wilson to wiggle and buck his hips into the air. “Be patient, little guy, you’ll get your turn,” House said towards Wilson’s crotch. Wilson laughed, but discarded his shirt on the floor. He then stood and dropped his pants after undoing his belt. He knew House being on his knees was a no-go, they found that out pretty early on in the relationship.  
However, House had no issue with bending at the waist to suck Wilson’s cock while still seated on the couch. House did something slightly uncharacteristic, and took the time to lay a kiss on Wilson’s stomach. It was an insecurity of Wilson’s, as his gut grew slightly pudgy with age. The insecurity was soon forgotten though as House bent lower, his tongue licking the tip of Wilson’s sensitive head. Wilson groaned as House wrapped his mouth around Wilson’s cock and took his entire length in his mouth. His hands gripped the back of Wilson’s thighs, pulling and pushing them to encourage Wilson to facefuck House. Had they been at home, Wilson would have been moaning House’s name. At any rate, he can barely keep himself from moaning feeling the warm, wet, tightness of House’s mouth.  
A gag of satisfaction came from House when Wilson complied as he grabbed House’s hair and really started thrusting. “Finally, a better use for your mouth,” Wilson teased. At any other time, he would never dare to speak to House like this. Yet when they were having sex at some point the motormouth of House’s would always shut off and he would become like this, primal and needy and although House would never openly admit it- submissive.

Wilson fucked into House’s throat for a few minutes. He loved to hear House choking and trying to regulate his own breathing, and to hear his own balls slapping House’s chin with each thrust. Wilson’s thrusts became slower, stronger, and more deliberate before quietly grunting out, “I’m gonna cum.”

Immediately, House pushed Wilson off of him. He looked so beautiful. Eyes red and teary, drool leaking from slightly puffier lips. “What was that for?” Wilson whined, his cock throbbing and aching from the lack of release. It was shiny with House’s spit and swollen.

House didn’t reply, only started undoing his own belt. He lifted his hips off of the couch and shimmied his pants down to his ankles. Wilson could possibly never get used to seeing House’s cock, especially as it bounced out from his boxers. Wilson’s first instinct was to get down and suck, but that wasn’t what House was after. And quite honestly it was not what Wilson was after either. Wilson laid himself gently across House’s lap, his feet still planted on the floor for support. He heard House spit and shivered when he felt the lukewarm wetness being pressed against his hole. It started with one finger prodding and circling around Wilson’s hole, just enough to tease him and make him whine. When the finger did finally dip in, a whorish throaty moan escaped Wilson. House relished the feeling of Wilson’s hole clenching on his finger, the man’s hips bucking to try and get House in deeper.However, House was feeling impatient. Soon enough it was two fingers, then three. Three had been almost too much, and Wilson felt the familiar pleasurable stretch that made him moan quietly.  
Finally, House spit on his palm again and slicked his cock with it. Wilson had stood, and was genuinely mesmerized watching House jack himself off and hearing the wet noise of him thrusting into his fist. House stopped and looked up at Wilson expectantly. House slumped down on the couch so his hips were further out from the couch, and Wilson got on to straddle him.  
Both of them let out heady breaths as Wilson reached a hand behind himself and guided House in. House swore quietly under his breath, and wrapped his arms around Wilson’s shoulders. With effort, Wilson slowly sank himself down onto House’s cock. He loved watching the range of expressions that danced across House’s face, particularly when his eyes rolled back into his head as he bottomed out. House was panting, gripping Wilson’s shoulders with his fingernails, and pleading at him with unfocused eyes. With a shaking hand, he reached up and wrapped his hand around Wilson’s cock. The stimulation was almost too much for Wilson and he started to ride House with a fast pace. With each thrust, the men grunted in unison. Wilson’s hands were roaming everywhere they could. Under House’s shirt to run his hands up his torso, higher to brush a thumb over House’s nipples. A breathy whine escaped House’s lips, and Wilson angled himself down to kiss House again. 

“Fuck House... I’m so full, you feel so good…” Wilson whispered hoarsely. 

One of House’s hands released its tight grip on Wilson’s shoulder, dropping down Wilson’s arm. He tugged Wilson’s arm out from under his shirt and intertwined their fingers. Wilson did not slow his pace but looked at House with a perplexed expression.Even in the best of times House was not one to initiate hand holding. Yet there he was holding Wilson’s hand tightly, a look of pure unmasked passion on his face. Yes. He wanted- no, needed- to have this man at his side forever. As his husband. Wilson clenched unintentionally, drawing another moan from House as the man opened his eyes and met Wilson’s gaze. House’s look was intense, deeper than the throes of passion. Even now, he was analysing Wilson. Wilson opened himself up to House’s scrutiny. There was nothing he wanted to hide from House.  
The only thing that broke House’s searching eye contact was a particularly devilish hip movement done by Wilson. The hand holding his squeezed tight, and House started repeatedly gasping. Wilson knew what he was doing, that’s for sure. The gasps turned to whines which then turned into uncontrollable moans. This only invigorated Wilson’s movements, until finally House pulled Wilson close, sunk his teeth into his shoulder, and came. The pain from this bite was forgotten by Wilson who was too lost in the pleasure of feeling House’s throbbing cock. Spurts of cum was filling him.  
In his orgasm, House had ceased jerking Wilson off. After collecting himself for just a moment he reached back to Wilson’s cock but Wilson shooed his hand away. Instead he fucked into his own fist, still riding House. House’s cock was sensitive as all hell but he knew it wouldn’t take Wilson long so he resigned himself to enjoying the view of his boyfriend. Not that Wilson tried to break the hold but House kept a strong grip on their intertwined fingers, making it clear he wasn’t going to let go of Wilson’s other hand. As Wilson became more desperate, House lifted his shirt up his torso with his free hand just in time for Wilson to cum all over his stomach. House was transfixed on the sight, his mouth open slightly.  
Wilson slumped forward. His skin was flushed and slightly sweaty as his forehead rested against House’s shoulder. His breathing was still labored, and House fought the desire to reach up and check Wilson’s heart rate.

“Mind getting me a napkin?” House asked, causing Wilson to laugh with ingenuine annoyance. 

Wilson gingerly pulled himself off of House, and the lack of Wilson’s body made House immediately regret asking for a napkin. Oh well, too late now. Wilson slid his underwear and pants back on, before leaning over his desk to grab some napkins leftover from yesterday’s lunch. He passed them over to House as he picked his shirt up and started buttoning it up. 

“Hey!” Wilson exclaimed, as House threw the used napkins at him. 

“Don’t be such a prude Wilson,” House retorted playfully, pulling his pants on. 

After he tossed the used napkin, Wilson bent to pick up House’s cane. As if on a timer, House’s pager went off. House popped his head through the collar of his shirt and looked at the pager with a dissatisfied groan. 

“Gotta go?” Wilson asked. Not that he had ever voiced it before, but Wilson wasn’t the biggest fan of cumming then going. With escorts it had been one thing, but with romantic partners Wilson much preferred physical affection after sex.

House grimaced wordlessly, and took the cane Wilson offered to him. He got up with a quiet grunt, and started to walk towards the door. He stopped, and turned back around. He glared at Wilson with an indescribable expression Wilson had never seen before. Wilson looked at him quizzically and was then pulled into a tight embrace.  
_House was hugging him._

“Are you stoned House?” Wilson asked, unable to believe there was no ulterior motive to this. 

He got no reply, just House burying himself into Wilson’s shoulder. House’s wiry arms were wrapped tight around his ribs and Wilson heard him take a deep uneven breath in. His hands gently rubbed at Wilson’s back which felt absolutely heavenly. The heat from the pads of House’s fingers could be felt through Wilson’s shirt. By the time Wilson had enough nerve to raise his arms to reciprocate, House was already pulling away. House paused for a moment, his face just inches away from Wilson’s. Looking into his eyes like he was looking for something. It almost looked like House was sad. Wilson looked concerned when he noticed this, but that was his mistake.  
Mask on.  
He didn’t even look at Wilson again, just spun around and exited the office. 

➽───────────────❥

Wilson threw open an office window to let the smell of sex out. It took a few minutes still, to fully regain his composure. Not from the sex, but from the hug. That was out of nowhere. He tried to think about this objectively. Rationalize the situation. Wilson chuckled to himself quietly. Normal people don’t typically think there is something wrong when their boyfriend gives them a hug, and here Wilson is overthinking it. He didn’t even bother to turn on the light, content with the outdoor lamp that was now lit.  
He held his hands together in deep contemplation. Maybe he was stoned? Or maybe this is House finally comfortable with asking for physical comfort beyond sex? Wilson didn’t want to think about the other, way worse possibility. House was somehow in pain or in danger and didn’t want to tell Wilson. None of these were desirable answers.

To make matters worse, tonight was one of the worst nights to have. It was rare when one would be working overnight when the other wouldn’t, but apparently House’s newest case required 24/7 supervision. Usually House would leave Chase or Cameron to do it, which was what made Wilson even more anxious. He already didn’t like nights alone but this felt like House was deliberately avoiding him. Why?  
House’s messages to Wilson were typically short and blunt, and this message was the same. A quick message of the patient's name, room number, ‘I’m staying overnight’. Wilson preferred talking directly to House since he never put any effort into being sarcastic or rude over text. It wasn’t as fun and it wasn’t, well, House.  
Wilson drove home alone, and the silence filled his ears. He was so used to hearing House rant about stupid people, boring cases, etc. He tried to turn on the radio but was quickly left dissatisfied with that. He instead settled with rolling down his windows and stewed in his own thoughts.  
The anxiety dogged at Wilson all the way home, and followed him inside House’s apartment. _No, our apartment._ It’s been two years. Wilson shook his head as he kicked off his shoes. First thing he did was go to their bedroom to change into new clothes. He originally pulled on House’s university tee. Something about wearing it made his heart clench though, so he replaced it with a shirt he had received at a blood drive a few years ago. A pair of sweat shorts replace the pants that House loves so much on him. Wilson held the pants in his hands for a minute, holding the fabric in the light so he could see the individual threads in the pants. Once he was sufficiently dressed down, Wilson sat down at their couch with his laptop.

Google search: Compelling arguments for marriage  
Google search: Divorce statistics for gay men  
Google search: Wedding cake shop  
Google search: Gay marriage suits?? Help?  
Google search: Wedding playlists for people who don’t like mushy gushy love stuff  
Google search: DIY Chuppah  
Google search: Tax benefits to marriage  
Google search: WikiHow How to propose  
Google search: Best proposals compilation 2020

Google search: Wedding ring engraving

Wilson could hear House’s voice in his head again. “Helloooo, future fourth marriage spouse here! Why be fucked to get me the fancy Lord of the Rings knockoff?”

“Because,” Wilson answered out loud, “You’re different.”

“Yes, because ‘fourth times the charm’ is the saying, isn’t it?”

“Not like that. I know you are the one. You’re why my old marriages failed. There’s no one else in this world who means more to me than you do. It’s you, it's always been you.”

He could practically see House gagging. “Oh Romeo, you are an idiot.”

Even as a voice in Wilson’s head, House spoke with a softer tone. 

“I thought I was supposed to be the crazy one. Stop talking to yourself.”

“Go away, then.”

➽───────────────❥

Wilson had no idea what time House would be home. He was hardly one to call ahead, unless it was to ask Wilson to cook for him or order takeout. He cleared his recent browser history, switched on the TV, and flipped to some old show rerun hoping he could distract himself. To his dismay he all but forgot the TV as he thought about what he would say to House when he got home. Ask why he was distancing himself? Propose? Or he could pull a House, act like nothing was wrong. It would be the easiest option.  
Fortunately for Wilson, House did not come home. He missed House dearly but having this space to help him think was definitely appreciated. He watched what felt like hours of proposal videos, even practiced some in his bathroom mirror. All of them felt staged and ingenuine and all it did was make him blush. Wilson tried to think about what House’s face would look like when he proposed. He hoped it wouldn’t be a controlled face. Not the mask.  
Oh well, it was getting late. Wilson called House’s office and left a voicemail, just a brief goodnight punctuated with an “I love you” before he crawled into bed and turned off the light. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position without House there, he finally fell asleep holding one of their pillows against his chest.

➽───────────────❥

When Wilson woke up the next day, he had three missed calls from Cuddy. Panic immediately set in Wilson, and he swung himself out of bed. 

“Hello?” Wilson asked when Cuddy picked up on the third ring.

“One second.” Cuddy whispered, before setting the phone down. Wilson could hear rummaging sounds for a minute or two before she returned. She hissed in a half whisper, “Wilson what the hell? Cameron called me this morning, said House slept in his office last night. On the floor.”

Wilson stared at the floor in shock. “What?”

“On the FLOOR, James! What the hell happened? Did you propose?”

“No… he didn’t even come home with me last night. He said he had a case?”

“What? That patient from yesterday?” She paused, but didn’t wait for Wilson to reply. “House solved that case at, like, 10 last night!”

“Oh, God.” Wilson said, his blood running cold. What does that mean? Why would House willingly sleep on his office floor? Did he hate Wilson that badly?

“What happened?” Cuddy demanded.

“Nothing! Nothing happened! After I talked to you, House and I- er- kissed in my office! He held my hand, and he hugged me before he left!”

The line was silent, and with one hand Wilson was shimmying up his pants. 

“You don’t think he’s suicidal, do you?” Cuddy asked after a while. “I mean… that doesn’t sound like House in the slightest.”

Wilson rubbed his palm over his forehead. He sighed, “I don’t think he is. I don’t know.” He zipped and buckled his pants and slipped on sneakers. “Is he still in the office?”

“Yes. Somehow even though he slept in his office, he was magically still an hour late for work. He looks like hell Wilson. What do we do?”

“I don’t know… I’ll talk to him after work I guess?”

“Fix this.” Cuddy said, and hung up on Wilson.

➽───────────────❥

The drive to work felt like it took hours. After Cuddy had hung up on him, Wilson rushed to finish getting ready. He hopped in the car and took off. Every red light he reached, he could feel his heart rate spiking. His anxiety was outweighed by only one thing: his heartache. He was no stranger to House shutting him out and rejecting him. But not once since the beginning of their relationship had House ever purposefully slept without Wilson. Even when they bitched and argued with each other until they went purple in the face, the night always ended with them together in bed.  
What changed? Maybe House did have bugs planted in Cuddy’s office after all, and he heard everything. Wilson shivered at the thought. He finally pulled the car into the lot, parking as close to House’s motorcycle as he could. Good, Wilson thought. He must still be here. Wilson did his best to keep his pace at a brisk walk, long and swift strides carrying him all the way up to the elevator. He didn’t remember the elevators taking this long, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. He let out a big breath through his nose. He checked his watch. He looked back up, and the elevator had barely moved a floor up.  
To his surprise, the elevator stopped at the next floor and Wilson met eyes with Cameron. She had a natural resting “anti-bitch bitch face” as House called it, Wilson called it a naturally cheerful face. As soon as she recognized the man in front of her however, her smile dropped and her eyes narrowed. She stepped in by Wilson’s side and smashed the ‘door close’ button. Wilson couldn’t help furrowing his eyebrows in worry and confusion. Cameron stared dead ahead, right at the polished stainless steel elevator door.

“Cameron, I-”

Her voice was icy as she cut him off. “Don’t talk to me. I already know what’s going on.” 

“W-what? Did Cuddy tell you?” Wilson asked, moving so he could speak to her face instead of her shoulder. She glared him down in a way that made him step back to his original position.

“I’m not stupid Wilson. Figured it out on my own from what House told me.” Wilson was bewildered. He never expected Cameron to exactly be overjoyed with him proposing to House, but at the very least he expected positive congratulations. “And you told Cuddy too? Real classy of you Wilson.”

But if Cameron could figure it out, then- “Oh God. House knows too.”

The elevator came to their stop with a ding that sent dread careening into Wilson. The doors slid open, and Cameron stepped out. She turned, blocking Wilson’s exit. There was nothing but anger and malice on her face, in her voice. 

“I really thought you knew him better than this.”

With that, she turned away. Tears were prickling at Wilson’s eyes and heat flushed his cheeks. He stepped out of the elevator but stood still until Cameron was out of sight. He then briskly walked himself into his office and shut the door behind him. He could vaguely hear the differential going on in the adjacent room, since he had left his window open from yesterday. Wilson was usually never this distracted as to be so careless with a window. Hearing House’s voice, even from a distance and snapping at Foreman no doubt, hurt Wilson beyond words. He shut the window and sat on his couch, putting his head in his hands.  
Everything. He’s ruined everything. This was obviously a boundary he had crossed. What was he thinking? He bent down even further, using his arms to cradle himself. Soon as he saw House, it would be all over. He sobbed, then laughed bitterly.  
It wouldn’t be truly over. Sure, House would break his heart and sneer at him while doing it… But Wilson still knew they would remain there for each other. That fact was his only reassurance. What could he say to House to prevent him from running away though? Sorry House this was all an elaborate prank! House, you misheard me. I don’t want to marry you, I want to bury you! No, what the fuck. Wilson sighed. It's too hard to lie to House. 

Wilson thought about leaning into it. Maybe act like he’s gone crazy, act really depraved and desperate. Maybe House could make a joke about Wilson being such a hormonal girl about it and they could move on. Or maybe, House wasn’t actually mad about marriage, just worried about Wilson leaving him. He could reassure him, tell House sickeningly sweet declarations of undying love until House would wrinkle his nose in disgust.  
Wilson moved to his office chair and toed off his shoes. No matter what, Wilson thought as he blew his nose, if House was set on dumping him Wilson doubted he could change House’s mind. Wilson’s chest wouldn’t stop aching. He shook his head and set himself to work. 

Wilson missed lunch. His usual routine involved House bursting into his office around 1, demanding that he buy House food. They would argue, but then Wilson would relent. He couldn’t help it. Looking up at his clock and realizing it was 4 o’clock made his eyes tear up. He was so tied to his routine with House and so absorbed in his work he didn’t notice lunch passing. He thought too late to move his paperwork, they had small water stains on them now. Wilson glared at the paper before tossing it to the corner of his desk. He put his head in his arms on the desk and let himself openly sob. It felt shameful and embarrassing and cathartic at the same time. Not even 24 hours ago, House had been holding Wilson’s hand. House had reached out to hug him. Wilson sat back and through bleary eyes looked at his own hands. Would House ever let him touch him like that again?

➽───────────────❥

Wilson decided to skip lunch altogether. He was too anxious to eat and if he did he doubted he would be able to keep it down. Just as soon as he made that decision, there was a sharp rap on his door. Wilson definitely felt like he was going to vomit right then. 

“C-come in!” Wilson said, his voice a bit higher than he meant it to be. He quickly wiped his tears and rubbed his eyes, hoping to look like he had just woken from a nap.

In stepped Chase, much to Wilsons simultaneous solace and grief. He came in and set a styrofoam takeout box on Wilson’s desk. On it, a big black H was written on the side in Sharpie. 

“House… sent you to give me this?” Wilson asked. 

Chase looked grim and only nodded. He took two steps back and opened his mouth like he was about to speak, then turned out of the room. Wait. Wilson could kind of understand why Cameron would be upset with him for proposing, but why Chase? Just because he’s pining after Cameron, so whatever upsets her upsets Chase in turn? No, Chase wasn’t like that. Could Chase be in love with House too?  
Wilson reached forward and grabbed the styrofoam box. House does often mention how annoyingly admiring Chase is towards House. He also knew that Chase was the only one out of the ‘kids’ who was always on House’s side in most cases. Sure, Chase was boyish and thin and handsome, but House chose Wilson.  
Wilson popped the lid to the container, and was met with his favorite entrees. Honey walnut shrimp, kung pao chicken, and coconut shrimp. It smelled perfect and in usual House fashion, Wilson could tell House had eaten some of the food himself. His anxiety temporarily dispersed, replaced by the warm familiar feeling that only House could create. House went out of his way to feed him. He was showing he cared, willingly bought food for Wilson, knowing he hadn’t eaten and... it was still Chase who delivered the food. The ache in Wilson’s chest returned as he mulled over that thought. He hadn’t seen House in a whole day because House for some reason was avoiding him. Still. Was this some sort of game to him?

A thought hit Wilson. Maybe House was waiting for Wilson to make the next move. Maybe he knew, and was going to say yes, but as always he wanted Wilson to work for it. That’s why he sent the food. It was a message, wasn’t it? 

➽───────────────❥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are halfway through the actual plot!! Go team!  
> As a gay Jew, I'm enjoying making Wilson aggressively Jewish. I too, fantasize about building my own chuppah for my wedding


	3. it gets worse!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter where you understand why I tagged Wilson having a pineapple allergy. In in semi related news, kung pao chicken is amazing with pineapple. 
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> Hope everyone who is currently in quarantine is doing okay! If you're reading this in the future, I'm mega jealous of you. I wanna go watch a movie in movie theaters s o bad.

Wilson finished his work, intermittently nibbling on his food. It still made him happy to look at the big black H on the box. Time continued to pass, and the next time Wilson lifted his head from his desk he saw it was 9. He shoveled down most of his barely touched food, suddenly hungry. The food was delicious, but Wilson noticed House hadn’t gone to their usual restaurant since the food tasted ever so slightly different. A bit sweeter? Wilson couldn’t put his finger on it.  
He then rolled his neck and could feel how strained the muscles were. He rubbed the nape of his neck as he stood and stretched his legs. This led him to yawn. It was well past time for him to be going home, and he had accomplished much more than he had hoped to. Wilson collected the styrofoam box along with the plastic fork he had used for it and tossed them in the bin before he glanced to make sure he actually closed his window this time. He switched his light off after grabbing his jacket and keys, and locked the office door behind himself. 

Wilson stood in that hallway, at middle ground between House’s office and the elevators. He scratched his arms, they felt very itchy. Maybe because he was sweating so much, who knows. He could see out of the corner of his eye that House’s office lights were still on, indicating he was still there. Wilson steeled himself, he was going to make sure House was coming home tonight. He was going to talk to House, and get answers to all of his questions because he felt like the agony of not knowing was becoming unbearable. Despite his determination, Wilson stood frozen in place. He was finding it difficult to move. His hands were shaking and sweaty again. Finally he took a big breath in, and started walking over to House’s office.

House had his feet kicked up on his desk, flipping through channels on his TV. His eyes flicked over to Wilson when he entered the office but then returned to the TV just as quickly. The mask was definitely on, he was trying almost too hard to look bored. Now that he was in the door, Wilson’s throat felt like it was contracting. Each step towards House felt like it was too loud. He felt like begging for House to look at him. 

“House-” Wilson began, before he doubled over and puked on the office carpet. 

This definitely caught House’s attention. He looked offended, then angry, then faintly concerned. His feet dropped to the floor and he used his arms to support him standing up. All of this was lost on Wilson though, since the room was suddenly swimming around him. He was mildly aware of feeling embarrassed, of the horrid taste of stomach acid on his tongue. His arms fell to hold himself around the middle as he bent and puked again.

Once the wave of nausea passed him, he looked up at House, wiping his mouth. “Thorry,” Wilson said.

House’s eyes narrowed and he cocked one ear towards Wilson. “What was that?” He wasn’t playing with Wilson, he looked genuinely confused.

“I thaid I’m thorry, I…” It was then Wilson realized his tongue was swollen. He stuck it out just to be sure, and he could feel it getting worse every second. “Oh thit. Houthe.”

He was going into anaphylaxis and fast. He raised a hand around his throat, aware of how hard it was becoming to breathe. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and the only thing he could hear over it was his own shallow scratchy breaths. 

“Fuck.” House said. He immediately understood what was happening too. Cane forgotten, he hobbled to his office door. He called out for a nurse to get him epinephrine, barking out orders until he heard Wilson fall to his knees. A louder thump was heard as Wilson fell face forward onto the floor. 

Wilson was vaguely aware that something warm and wet was soaking into his pants. Christ, did he piss himself? No wait… he just fell in his own vomit. His chest really fucking hurt. His eyes were half open as House rolled Wilson onto his back. Wilson got a goofy smile on his face as he could feel House’s hand on his wrist. Probably checking his heart rate, but still. It felt good to be touched by his boyfriend.

“Any day now!” House yelled over his shoulder. 

Wilson didn’t fully understand what was happening anymore. Why was House so mad again? It was time for them to go to bed, why can’t he just stop being mad and join him in bed? He reached a weak hand up to try and touch House’s face, but House swatted it out of the way. Wilson must have looked really hurt by that action, as regret flashed across House’s face. House quickly took Wilson’s hand gently and set it down by his side. He said something very gently that Wilson wished he could understand, but House sounded like he was yards away from Wilson.  
I’m going to die, Wilson thought. I’m going to die because my genius boyfriend didn’t realize there were pineapples in my food. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, but more than anything he just wanted to breathe. House left his side for a moment, leaving Wilson to float in an in-between state. House was on the phone with someone, couldn’t phone calls wait for the morning?

“Stay awake for me,” House’s voice demanded, loud and clear enough for Wilson to understand. It was never a question, always a command.

He wanted to, he really did. Instead, darkness took him.

➽───────────────❥

Dreams were tumultuous. Wilson kept having repeated dreams that he would wake up in his bed. House would be sleeping next to it, holding Wilson’s hand. One time he dreamt he woke up with House lying on the bed next to him, the two squished together with how little space was afforded to them. Just like always, he dreamt that House had tucked his head on Wilson’s shoulder and rested his bad leg on top of Wilson. He subconsciously wrote these dreams off as nothing. Of course he would be dreaming of this. House was… well, home. 

Voices. He heard several. The first he identified was House, then Cuddy. Foreman and Chase spoke up once or twice, too. Wilson found he could hear the words but was finding it difficult to string them into sentences. He heard House saying pineapple, shock, CPR. Idiot nurses. Cuddy replied in a snippy tone, supplemented by something Foreman was saying. Wilson struggled to regain control of his body but was finally able to move his hand. He still felt immensely weak so all he could do was tap the bed inaudibly. No one noticed, and the conversation continued on.  
Wilson’s eyes felt welded shut. Once he could crack them open he immediately regretted it. The room was too bright and so he squeezed his eyes back shut. God, his mouth was so dry. He tried to speak next, his eyes were just barely open trying to get readjusted with the light. Whatever he had meant to say came out as a meaningless groan that was barely audible. House’s face shortly came into view.

“Wilson?” He asked, barely masked trepidation in his voice. 

His tongue was no longer swollen, but his throat still felt like hell. Instead he opted to nod his head. Slowly his eyes opened more and saw Cuddy and the ‘kids’ standing at the foot of the bed. Cuddy looked awful, as beautiful as she was. It warmed his heart a little to see her so worried about him. Foreman was like House in the sense that he definitely had a mask on. If Wilson knew him better though, he would have noticed the wrinkles around the younger doctor’s eyes and the recently bitten down nails on his hand. Cameron stood at the front of the ‘kids’, her arms crossed but her anger towards Wilson had visibly softened. Chase was chewing the inside of his lip nervously, looking Wilson up and down as if he was about to keel over.  
House still looked like House. Disgruntled, grumpy, unshaven. The lines under his eyes had deepened, and he was visibly in pain. Wilson couldn’t hide the adoration in his eyes when looking at his boyfriend, but it hurt nonetheless. He thought it was particularly cruel of House to act so caring if he was planning on dumping him. Typically, House was the one unafraid of being blunt with people.  
Wilson reached a hand across his body to tap his other wrist with his index finger. He looked to House.

“Time?” House asked. “It's 7 p.m. Wilson. You’ve been out cold for a day now.” There was no humor. No jokes or even scathing remarks, which made House’s statement all the more disturbing to Wilson.

Wilson closed his eyes. All of his appointments he had missed. On top of everything on his plate at the moment, he missed his appointments. Big sigh, in and out. When he reopened his eyes, House was gone. His mouth opened in shock, and he tried to sit up and call after him. He couldn’t see House, but could still hear his familiar gait as he stalked away. Cuddy pressed Wilson’s shoulder back down onto the bed gently. 

“He’ll come back.” Cuddy said in a smooth voice. “I’ll make sure he’ll drive you home when you are discharged later tonight.”

Cuddy ran her fingers through Wilson’s hair and the feeling of her long nails scratching his scalp was extremely soothing. She then gave his shoulder a small squeeze and a smile.  
Cuddy and Cameron were the first to walk off, soon followed by Chase. Foreman and Wilson looked at each other blankly for a few minutes. Foreman looked at Wilson as if he was looking at him for the first time, studying his face and expression. All Wilson could really manage was raised eyebrows that were knitted together in confusion. Foreman sucked his lips behind his teeth then exhaled loudly through his mouth. He firmly patted Wilson’s ankle twice and left Wilson alone.  
Wilson turned his attention to the ceiling. He wanted to think and to plan his next moves. What he was going to do at work tomorrow to make up for the entire day he had missed. But Wilson felt tired. So exhausted, unfairly so, for a man who had apparently slept for a whole day. He wanted to care. He didn’t feel the energy to. Wilson wanted to not be Wilson right now. Instead he decided to be House.  
He let himself fall asleep.

➽───────────────❥

When he next woke up, he was in his car. He was reclined in the seat as far back as it could go, wearing a seatbelt. The car smelled like House, like the heater was on, and like the old fast food wrappers he knew were crumpled in the backseat. It was dark outside, and Wilson just dazed out at the passing streetlights for a while. Wilson stole a glance towards House. From his perspective he could only really see the back of his head and the swell of his cheekbone. He was driving with his shoulders tensed, both hands on the wheel. He wasn’t speeding either, Wilson noted with raised eyebrows.  
Wilson shifted a little to stretch out his legs with a tired grunt. He could feel House’s cane, resting between his thigh and the console. With his right hand Wilson reached down the side of the seat to pull the lever that allowed the seat to rise up to a sitting position. He looked at House again, this time more blatantly. House really looked like shit. He also smelled bad, Wilson thought, suddenly deciding to breathe through his mouth. If there was an expression on House’s face, Wilson couldn’t identify it. Their glances met at a red light and Wilson saw House’s eyes widen then refocus on the road. He didn’t look at Wilson again.  
Wilson wanted to talk, to start the discussion that had been eating at him. If House knew he wanted to propose and wanted to reject it, Wilson would prefer to get it over with as soon as possible. His throat felt like it was sandpaper. He saw a water bottle in the cup holder and downed it. He caught his breath as he screwed the cap back on, and set it gently in the backseat of the car. Wilson resolved to clean it up as soon as he could. Whenever that would be. 

When they arrived in the parking lot, House shut off the car but didn’t get out. He had a grip on the wheel, his knuckles white. He looked like he was spacing out, his stare unfocused out the window. It was almost alarming to see, since House was almost constantly focused, scrutinizing, analysing. Wilson openly stared at House, searching for signs of brain activity.  
After staying still for a few beats too many, Wilson reached across himself to wave his hand in House’s face. House blinked repeatedly and sort of shook his head before pulling himself out of the car. Out of habit, Wilson passed House’s cane over the driver’s seat, which House accepted. Wilson hopped out of the car, shut his door, and walked ahead of House over to their apartment. He was shaking nervously, and it took him a little longer than usual to unlock the front door. House caught up with him, having locked the car.  
The silence wasn’t breaking. 

They entered their home, took off their shoes. House sat on the couch and set his bad leg up on the coffee table. Wilson went into their bedroom and changed into the comfortable outfit he had worn the other day, before he returned to the living room. Upon second thought, Wilson turned back towards the kitchen. He grabbed himself a glass of water and House a bottle of beer. He passed the beer to House wordlessly, and sat on the couch next to House. He sat no closer nor further from House than he normally would, but he could sense House pulling himself slightly away.

“Okay, House, what’s your fucking problem?” Wilson finally blurted, much louder than he meant to be. He saw House sort of flinch, more out of surprise than anything else. It took himself a second to process and decide what he wanted to say.

“Currently? My leg is-”

“Don’t you even start about your damned leg, House. You are avoiding me.”

Instead of getting a playful quip back, House suddenly stood, his unopened beer forgotten on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.” 

He walked faster than Wilson knew House was comfortable with, and all Wilson could do was stare at his boyfriend’s back as he disappeared down the hallway. This was the least likely thing he thought was going to happen. Wilson stared blankly at the TV, slowly drinking his water. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bedroom light shine down the hall. He wanted to pursue House, he wanted to run away, he wanted to scream and tear his hair out. He waited a few minutes, then ten, then twenty. The light in their bedroom eventually shut off, and Wilson’s glass eventually became empty. Fuck it, Wilson thought. He reached over and picked up House’s beer and drank it. He cleaned up the glasses, shut the TV off, and shuffled to the bathroom.  
He brushed his teeth without any more light than the night light he had installed in the room. He didn’t want to be able to look at himself in the mirror. After brushing his teeth and washing his face Wilson finally went towards their bedroom. He lingered in the doorway, and couldn’t make out if House was awake or not in the darkness. The fact that House hadn’t flat out locked him out of the bedroom was a good sign, Wilson tried to tell himself.  
Wilson walked to his side of the bed and slid under the sheets. He could feel House shift, and he thought that House was going to assume their usual sleeping position. To his disappointment, House never did. He actually had turned away from Wilson completely. Wilson tried to regulate his breathing, but couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks. Never had House been so close yet felt so far away. 

The heartache kept him up all night. He watched the night pass and the dawn pour light on House. He looked somehow older when he was asleep, but still extremely attractive. Wilson’s eyes felt puffy, he had been crying on and off all night. Why would someone like House even want to be with him anyways?  
Wilson yearned, more than anything, to just touch his boyfriend. To hold him, and feel the other man’s skin on his own one last time. Once it passed an acceptable time for House to be waking up, Wilson reached across the bed. He gently placed his open palm on House’s shoulder, and almost cried harder feeling the touch.  
Four nights ago, he had cradled his boyfriend through a panic attack. Three days ago, he had planned to propose. Now it felt like Wilson had undone the past three years of their relationship. He tenderly rubbed House’s back in small circles. He kept his sniffling to a minimum. He didn’t actually want House to wake up, because as soon as he did all of this would be over. Touching House did help to calm Wilson, enough for the sleepless night to catch up with him. He felt his eyelids drooping and could not pinpoint exactly when he passed out, but he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the end!!! I hope everything has been a worthwhile read so far.
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> also I'm not playing if you wanna chat about House/Wilson or star trek you can message me on tumblr @wispeech or on twitter @wheedonist !!


	4. understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but gets the most work done. This is the end of the actual story and the next chapter is a lil thing about their wedding because I can't just leave well enough alone. 
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> alternative chapter title is "Wilson gets angy like that one cat meme"

When he woke back up, he swore. The alarm clock said it was 11:39. House was long gone, his side of the bed left messy but cold. Wilson rolled out of bed and got dressed as quickly as he could. He had to unbutton his shirt because initially he missed one button and did the rest incorrectly. His socks weren’t matching, he didn’t take the time to blow dry his hair. He didn’t really care. He didn’t even take the time to call Cuddy before he hopped into his car.   
He broke multiple speed limits and other traffic laws on the drive over. He screeched into the closest parking spot he could find, which was inconveniently far. It’s what I get for arriving to work so late, he admonished himself. His heart was hammering in his chest. I’m going to march right up to his office and talk to him, Wilson thought. He walked in with a confident stride which died on the elevator ride up to his floor. Like a coward, he darted into his office instead. He locked his door and buried himself in his work again. Made phone calls for the patients he missed yesterday, did paperwork for future patients, transferred today’s patients to his second in command. He wasn’t suitable to be doing interpersonal work today.   
He felt himself being easily agitated at every noise. A voice too loud from outside his door, the sound of two papers rubbing each other. Every move he made his chair would squeak in an awful way. Breathing through his nose one of his nostrils would make a whistling sound, no matter how many times he blew his nose. He bounced one leg under his desk in a mix of anxiety and frustration. It was so damn hard to think.   
The lights were too bright. Something in Wilson’s head started to hurt, dull at first before it turned into a sharp, unignorable pain.  
A migraine was starting to kick in. Of course, how could this week get any better? Wilson reached down and opened a drawer in his desk. Towards the bottom lay two pill bottles and an inhaler. The inhaler was for Wilson, one bottle was spare Vicodin for House, and the other was migraine medication. He poured one into the cap, which he then poured into his palm. He stowed the bottle back away but then realized he had nothing to drink in his office. It took great effort, but Wilson dry swallowed the pill. He couldn’t fathom how House did that regularly, it felt wrong. _House._ With an angry sigh, Wilson set a ‘do not disturb’ sign on his door and shut all of his lights off. He curled himself up on his couch with his hands folded beneath his head. 

He woke up all too soon, to the sound of hard knocks on his office door. Thankfully he had slept long enough for the medication to have kicked in, the pain now a manageable dull throbbing in his head. He still wasn’t very happy at being woken up, less so knowing who was behind the door. No one else in the hospital would be so inconsiderate to knock on a door that says ‘do not disturb’. Or so he thought.

“Foreman.” Wilson greeted, standing in the door frame as a clear sign of ‘I’m not inviting you in’. He wasn’t trying to be purposefully hostile, but he was annoyed that Foreman was there. He was tempted to snap at the man, I thought you were afraid of turning into House, act like it. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. 

“We need a consult. New case.” Foreman got the hint, but looked unrepentant. He pulled a file from under his arm and held it out to Wilson.

He took it with an eyebrow raised. Something wasn’t right. He skimmed the file. Immediately Wilson recognized it as alveolar soft part sarcoma. He didn’t care. He was so, so angry. He shoved the file back against Foreman’s chest, who barely catched it in time.   
Wilson stormed past Foreman down to House’s office. He saw Chase and Cameron waiting there, sitting in the visitor’s chairs. They were having a discussion that Wilson couldn’t care less about.

He burst through the door so hard he thought the glass in the door was going to shatter. “Out.” He said, looking at Chase and Cameron.

The pair stared at him with wide eyes, unmoving. “Did you not hear me? Get. Out.” He knew he didn’t look like he was a threat, but he felt that his voice sounded pretty damn scary.

Chase was the first to stand, and he made it a point to walk around Wilson as far away as he could before exiting. Cameron shot her eyes from Wilson to House then back to Wilson. Finally she stood, making an angry face at Wilson as she passed him. She closed the door behind herself with a snap.  
Childishly, House was refusing to look at him. The orange glow from his desk lamp casted shadows across his face, highlighting his bone structure and wrinkles. Wilson looked down and could see his puke stain from two nights ago. 

“Why are you avoiding me House? You sent Chase to bring me food, you stayed overnight unnecessarily, you slept on the damned floor! And now you send Foreman over for a consult? Do you know how much that hurts??”

House became very interested in his nail beds.

“HEY!” Wilson shouted, so loudly it hurt his throat. It finally got House to look at him, snapping to attention. “Fucking talk to me House. Why are you avoiding me? I almost died two days ago. I needed you there.” He hated that he could feel tears welling up in his eyes.

House let out a scoff, but Wilson could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “I wanted to test if you were paying attention, snookums.” The last word was venomous. “It’s not my fault you didn’t check strange food for allergens, Chase could have just been plotting to take your place.”

Wilson held up a hand, all of the muscles in his arm tense and strained. “No, no! You,” Wilson’s hand turned to an accusatory finger pointed at his boyfriend. “You just don’t want to admit you made a mistake! You don't want to own up to the fact that I almost died because of an easy mistake, especially not one made by you. Because God forbid the ever-perfect House could be wrong!” His arm dropped to his side, limp. A thought dawned upon him that filled him with dread. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”

House looked genuinely confused.

“You don’t want to admit you made a mistake in dating me. That you never saw this lasting between us, but you ignored it, and now you’re wrong. You can’t face that you’ve been so stupid, wasted three years of your precious life with someone like me-”

“Oh shut up drama queen!” House finally yelled back, heaving himself up into a standing position. “Don’t fucking try to blame this on me. You’re the one trying to break up with me.”

It was Wilson’s turn to look confused. Genuinely, a “huh?” escaped his lips.

House sneered, the mask was broken. Wilson was floored watching anger present itself on House’s face. But the anger was muted by a stronger emotion. Pain. “Don’t insult me by acting stupid Wilson. _You_ were distant first. I know I shouldn’t have put my… burden on you, but I never expected you to block me out of your life.”

“What, your panic attack? I was more than happy to be there for you House, I love-”

“Then why was your door blocked by your scarf the next day? Not once in the decade I have known you have you ever done that. I’m the one who blocks people out of my life, not you. Then sneaking down to Cuddy’s office trying to avoid me. You were asking her how to break up with me in a way that covered both of your asses, weren’t you?” House’s breathing was now becoming labored, spittle occasionally flying from his lips. “Trying to keep me working like a good little boy, keep me from running myself into the ground with heartbreak.” 

Wilson shook his head quickly. “If you thought I was going to dump you, why the hell did you fuck me in my office not even an hour later?”

House’s gaze was intense from under his angry looking eyebrows. “I. Wanted. To say goodbye. I wanted one last time with you…” He trailed off, as his voice started to wobble. He cleared his throat. “But damn it Wilson, I wanted a chance to prove to you I’m worthy to be kept. Maybe you just needed affection back, like what you gave to me the night I had my panic attack. I know I’m not very good with that sort of stuff, and it’s not fair to take what I can’t give.”

 _The hand holding. The hug._ Wilson’s mind went blank. Then he started to smile a small smile. House didn’t see, his head now hanging in shame. He was looking down at his feet so Wilson couldn’t see him so upset.

“I can’t always give you what you need. I don’t… change. But maybe you just didn’t know I wanted to fight for you, that I would do anything I could for you. I have almost lost you twice in the past two days. It's been… a fucked up reminder of how I don’t want to live without you, by my side, mine.” He paused, and quieter he repeated, “mine.”

Wilson was still smiling through his confusion. “If you were planning on fighting for me, you were doing a shit job at it. I appreciated the random hug, but it made me worry more that you were in danger or pain. Avoiding me also kind of sent the wrong message. Where were you? Why didn’t you come home that night?”

House exhaled loudly through his nose. One hand reached in his pocket, the other he used to lean against the desk. He hobbled around the desk with his free hand supporting him until he was standing in front of Wilson. 

“I called a cab and had to drive all over town. I didn’t want you to dump me before I had the opportunity to fight for you, so I avoided you until I could think of what to say. It took me forever to find what I was looking for, and I’m not just talking about the ring.”

With effort, he got down on one knee. A small velvet box in hand. 

House wasn’t angry anymore. His pain was still there, a grimace from the strain on his leg. But the pain was overwhelmed by hope. Vulnerability. Love. If anything the vulnerability was what pained him most now. 

“I need you to know. I need you to know that I... love you. I’m no good at this whole love thing. I don’t know how to say it or show it or give you what you deserve. Half the time I don’t even know why you’re with me in the first place.” Both of the men were trembling. House swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “It’s you. If you’ll give me another chance, I’ll never burden you again but _please_ say you’ll be mine. James Wilson, please.” He couldn’t get the actual words he was supposed to say out of his mouth. It was too much. It had seemed so much easier watching others do this kind of crap.

Wilson was crying and shaking his head. The only reason why that didn’t dampen House’s hope was he could also see the Wilson grinning ear to ear. 

“You are the idiot.” Wilson said. 

He dropped to his knees before House, now at eye level with each other. Wilson wrapped House in his arms and they both melted into it. They both naturally slumped to the floor, House slightly on top of Wilson. Thank God, his leg was killing him standing on one knee. His face safely hidden in Wilson’s shoulder, House openly wept. He had a vice grip on the box. His other arm embraced Wilson back fiercely tight. 

Wilson was rubbing his back, scratching softly, touching as much of him as he could. Cool relief was washing over him and he could barely get a grip on what was actually happening. “House.” His voice was soft and came from deep in his throat, it was the most comforting thing House had heard in a long time. It was dripping with love, and at any other time House would have called him a girl for it. 

“Mmmph,” House replied, his face still securely shoved into Wilson.

“I love you as you are. Your panic attack didn’t change my feelings or opinion about you at all. You are not a burden when you share your emotions or ask for help like that. I am here for you, always. Do you want to know what I was doing when I was in my office, and when I was with Cuddy?” House raised his head to look at him, of course the answer to a mystery would pique his interest, even at a time like this. Wilson smiled and continued through happy tears. “I was deciding how _I_ was going to propose to you.” His hands raised to cup House’s face, thumbs brushing off still streaming tears. 

A tear that Wilson had missed fell off House’s chin and landed on Wilson’s cheek. Neither of them moved to do anything about it. House chuckled, but his voice was thick and still a little shaken. “Come on, you know the girl in the relationship doesn’t do that. Leave it to the man.” Wilson rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help laughing too. There’s his House. He missed him so much. “And for your information Wilson, I was by your side while you were knocked out. The whole time. I couldn’t bring myself to leave until you woke up and I knew you were okay.” House then craned his head down to give Wilson a soft, tender kiss. 

Warmth bloomed in Wilson’s chest. Those dreams he had weren’t dreams then. They resumed their embrace, just lost in the feeling of holding each other. Wilson kissed House’s neck, shoulder, forehead, anywhere he could reach. Not because he was horny, just because he could. House was his, _is_ his, and will always remain.   
House reached up and poked Wilson’s nose with the ring box he was still opening. 

“You never answered. It’s rude to leave a cripple hanging, you know.”

“Yes. Of course yes, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go!! I hope it was a good read. It honestly did feel really nice to try and write something again, especially to have finished it. I'm usually the kind of guy where I'll write a 1k fic or its 30k words but unfinished. 
> 
> I totally meant to post this chapter next week to keep my fic relevant but I'm too excited to show off the ending.
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> If you've made it this far, thanks again for reading I appreciate it a lot!! I'm sorry if I use too many commas I have been told that I do before...


	5. happy ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to this lil epilogue I made! Please be aware I do very briefly mention House's childhood abuse in this chapter.
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> I kept thinking about that wedding in the princess bride... "Wuv,,, twue wuv,,,,"

Once the mushy gushy crap was over, House put a mask back on. Wilson didn’t mind this time since he knew it was for comfort and not because the man was hiding something from him. They poked fun at each other for making such grand assumptions, and for reacting the way they did. House gave Wilson a sarcastic lecture about how ‘communication is key in healthy relationships’.  
House nonchalantly confessed that the night of Wilson’s allergy attack he had planned to try and propose. He had ignored Wilson initially upon him entering his office because he was internally panicking, which he hated. House never panicked, that’s Wilson’s thing. House never outright said sorry, but quietly admitted he didn’t think to check the food for allergens. With how much pride it must have taken House to confess such a thing, Wilson readily forgave him. Of course he would.   
House called Wilson a girl for crying so much. Wilson never said anything about the big wet spot left on Wilson’s shirt. It didn’t need to be said.

After a few moments lying on the office floor, they both sat up. House roughly grabbed one of Wilson’s hands and slid the ring on. They both looked at it for a while, just staring. Wilson let out a shaky sigh from the nerves and satisfaction of seeing it. House cradled Wilson’s ringed hand with both of his, internally happy he had remembered Wilson’s ring size correctly. There was an odd sense of reverence, as House brushed a thumb over the band. It was cold when he had pulled it out of the box but was already warmer on Wilson’s hand. Noticing that gave House a small smile.  
It was gold plated, thin, simple. There were other rings he considered, ones he scoffed at. One had been gold with diamond studs all over it, which would have made Wilson look like the goofiest pimp in New Jersey. One had been thinner, and solid black. House had decided that didn’t really suit Wilson’s style either. There had been plenty of gold rings House had looked at. Each of them had something or other, a minute detail House hated. Too wide, too thick. Too elaborate. Two jewelers kicked him out because of how picky and rude House was. Finally he had found one that was satisfactory to House.

After another long span of silence, House spoke.

“So which one is going to wear the dress?”

Wilson didn’t miss a beat as he barked out a laugh. “I’ve got too much of a gut, and white isn’t my color.”

“Hey, I dig the gut. Plus it gives you all your curves. Pour you into a tight white little number and everyone will understand why I’m locking it down.” House paused again, looking thoughtful. “So who is taking who’s name?”

“No way in hell am I taking House.”

House looked mock offended. “Wilson! Do you hate me that much?”

“No, not you. Just the reputation you have built around the name.”

“Well I don’t really want to be Wilson either, buddy.”

“Hyphenated? House-Wilson, Wilson-House?”

“No, that just looks stupid.”

“We could also just keep our names as they are… Less paperwork and all that.”

This answer seemed to please House. “It’s not like others will have trouble knowing you are mine.”

Wilson raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean?”

House rested his chin on Wilson’s shoulder. “I find myself excited to call you my husband. You’ll never hear the end of it. Are you still sure you wanna marry an old guy like me? I’ll get to make your life hell ‘till death do us part. My mom tried to raise me Catholic, so you can’t even divorce me. Them's the rules.”

“That is not how it works. And slow down there House, the correct word you are looking for right now is fiancé. We still have to get married first.” 

“How much are flights to Vegas right now?”

“ _No._ ”

➽───────────────❥

It took them four months, two weeks, and 3 days to plan the wedding. Neither of them wanted anything elaborate- House was round four for Wilson and House’s leg was killing him. No long drawn out ceremonies for them.

Wilson eventually bought a ring for House, one that was silver and a little bit longer than Wilson’s ring. Putting it on House made him so happy, and they spent that entire night together in bed. They held each other, Wilson cried, they kissed. House opened up about his nightmare. Wilson never spoke, never prodded. He had never even tried to ask about the nightmare since it had happened. It sparked a look of horror on Wilson’s face to learn about House’s childhood, but he reassured House the rest of the night that his secrets were safe, and that he was safe. He told House he was happy to help, that he would always be here for him. They held hands, kissed each other’s rings.

Wilson built their chuppah by himself, even after asking House several times to help. Four thick square wooden poles arranged in a rectangle, connected at the corners by crossbeams. The wood was all sunbleached and smooth. He bought some pretty white mesh fabric to sort of round out the corners as well as give the flowers something to be pinned to. The flowers Wilson bought were fake, mostly blues, violets, and yellow flowers. Wilson had finished it all in about a day, the weekend before the wedding. He left it in Cuddy’s backyard for safe keeping, and found it the next day with his and House’s initials burned into the wood. When Wilson asked House about it, House deflected by pushing him down on their couch and kissing him senseless. That was all the answer Wilson needed.

They didn’t buy fancy suits, nor dresses (to House’s dismay). Instead they wore comfortable pants- Wilson’s were a dark reddish brown, House’s were gray- and cream colored linen button downs. Wilson wore suspenders that matched his pants, House insisted he keep the top three buttons on his own shirt open. Wilson wore a kippah, the only one he owned. It was black faux leather, worn down to the point of softness. House still wore ugly Sketcher sneakers, something Wilson poked fun at him for but House had bought a pair specifically that were black and admittedly less ugly than his usual shoes. Wilson wore worn out and comfortable dress shoes. House bought a fancy cane, one that was matte black. Cuddy went out of her way to wrap a white silk ribbon up its length. Cuddy also bought them boutonnières that were a large white rose surrounded by smaller white and yellow blossoms.

House and Wilson had a joint bachelor party, and they invited the people they were closest to. This consisted of House’s ‘kids’ and Cuddy. Cuddy immediately regretted taking the invite since it took place at a strip club, but after a few hard drinks she was blushing and tipping every dancer she saw. House made some inappropriate comments, Wilson would tip extra to make up for it. The ‘kids’ were making bets on if House would get a drink thrown at him that night. Foreman got lucky, as House had two drinks dumped on his lap. Cameron and Chase were collectively out $200. 

The wedding ceremony itself was short and simple. They rented out a venue in a mostly secluded garden. It was the height of spring and the flowers around them were blooming. Wilson’s family, Cuddy, the ‘kids’, and a handful of other colleagues were all in attendance. House’s parents were noticeably missing, but not truly missed.   
In reality, House would have been happy if it had just been Wilson and himself. They didn’t walk down an aisle, but met each other halfway beneath the chuppah. It wasn’t a traditional Jewish marriage in the slightest, but Wilson was just happy to have the chuppah. He ran his fingers over the initials in the wood before turning to House. Even though they had seen each other before the ceremony, having the reality of what was happening right in front of him hit Wilson like a freight train.

House leaned on his cane in one hand, held both of Wilson’s with the other.

House fought the urge to cry. Wilson didn’t even make an attempt, his tears getting caught in his smile before the officiant could even start talking. House could even hear Cuddy sniffle loudly. House regulated his breathing as much as he could.   
After listening to the officiant speak for what felt like hours, it was time for the fun part. House told Wilson that if he wanted to do any fancy or sappy vows that he had better save it for their marriage bed. Wilson thankfully agreed, if only to cut on time in which House was required to stand.

Wilson was asked the big question.

“I do,” Wilson said, his voice cracking. His big puppy eyes were glistening and fixed only on House. He squeezed House’s hand. House squeezed back.

It was House’s turn.

He looked at Wilson, trying to take in as much of the sight before him as he could. Wilson looked so beautiful. Wilson gave him a little nod, his lips quivering slightly.

“I do.” 

The officiant finally said something interesting. “I have asked both Dr. Gregory House and Dr. James Wilson if they would wish to join in marriage, and bind themselves to each other. I as the officiant, and your guests as your witnesses, you both have dedicated yourselves. It is my honor to officiate your ceremony this day. And now I get to say something you’ve been looking forward to hearing for a long time. By the powers vested in me by the State of New Jersey, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband!”

Wilson nearly knocked House over, so excited to pull House into his arms. Wilson placed a hand on House’s face and guided him into a kiss. It was soft and chaste but still was screaming love and passion. House and Wilson then pulled each other into a tight embrace as the crowd yelled and cheered loudly. All Wilson could hear was House whispering fiercely in his ear, “I love you.” 

Wilson wanted to yell it out to the skies. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy in his entire life. All he did was squeeze House tighter into a big bear hug, lifting him off the floor a little. House allowed it, and wrapped his free arm around Wilson’s neck. 

Wilson pulled back and looked at House’s face. No mask, just a small grin on House’s face. His eyes were shiny. Wilson laughed, he couldn’t help himself. 

“Husband,” Wilson greeted, kissing House’s forehead.

“Husband.” House replied, planting a kiss on Wilson’s cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading my fic!! Pretty please leave a comment telling me what you thought! Or feel free to comment if there is anything you would like for me to write next! Honestly writing has been a really good outlet for me between sleeping and work lmao.
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> Also don't worry, I'm already writing more about this duo. I'm actually 6k words into my next fic, which is a scar soulmate AU!! I'll be diving into House's childhood trauma (and projecting some of my own onto him) and Wilson's depression (again, projecting) so it will be a bit darker, but definitely worth the read! I also made Wilson trans because,, you get it, I'm projecting. Is it even a fic if you don't project, just a little?
> 
> ➽───────────────❥
> 
> Anyways! If you want you can contact me on twitter @wheedonist if you would like!


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